


Pixels Against The Turning Page

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 69ing, Aziraphale has girlfriends, Aziraphale runs a book club, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining. Love confessions. Smut, masturbatory fantasies about bookshop owners, some minor angst, the holy trinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 03:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: Crowley buys Aziraphale a cell phone in the hopes of putting up some safe barriers between them, insisting that Aziraphale text instead of calling at all hours. It backfires.





	1. Chapter 1

_ ‘ _ ** _HELLO_ ** _ ’ _

Crowley waited without bothering to respond to the text from Aziraphale. He’d learned early on, after buying the antiquated angel a smart phone that it often took a while for Aziraphale to get into the groove of things as it were when it came to texting. He’d usually text a few practice greetings, often forgetting that his caps lock was on, then, eventually, by way of several half sentences, sent too early because his thumb hit the send arrow by accident, he’d get around to saying what he wanted.

The process was lengthy, and while it was sometimes frustrating, Crowley also found it ridiculously entertaining and more than a little adorable. He poured himself another cup of black coffee from the urn at the cafe where he’d stopped for lunch and waited, his cell phone on wooden tabletop in front of him for Aziraphale to get to the point. 

_ ‘ _ ** _hello_ ** _ ’ _

  
  


Well, at least he’d figured out how to get the caps lock off. 

_ ‘ _ ** _hello crowley_ ** _ ’ _

  
  


Progress. 

_ Any minute now  _ Crowley thought, settling in to wait while he sipped the coffee and stared absently out the window at the city traffic, slowly inching by at rush hour. Perhaps buying the angel a smartphone hadn’t been the most well thought out impulse the demon had  _ ever  _ had. But he’d grown frustrated with Aziraphale’s phone calls. The angel called him every couple of days to gush over a new book that he’d found at some market, or to ask him where they should meet for lunch. Or sometimes just to chat amiably about nothing much at all. 

Crowley very much enjoyed Aziraphale’s company in person, but like many modern humans who’d become completely addicted to their cell phones, he preferred texting to phone calls. For one thing, texting allowed him to respond when he was good and ready, rather than when Aziraphale chose to ring him up (sometimes at 3am, sometimes at 5pm). For another, it allowed him to stop and think about exactly what he wanted to say next. To craft his response, far more than he could on the phone, or in person really. Aziraphale was a wordsmith. A connoisseur of the written and spoken word. A deep sea diver in the murky waters of historical literature. He could chat away for hours at a stretch, stringing together words with gleeful abandon and very little effort and while Crowley rather enjoyed letting the angel’s bright, friendly chatter wash over him, he always felt at a disadvantage when he was required to respond in real time.

And Aziraphale unfailingly wanted him to answer some tricky question or other before their conversations had gone too far. A simple “how are you today dear boy?” was easy enough to respond to. “Fine angel” seemed to work well. 

What was more difficult were questions and statements like “What do you think of this new jacket I got? I think it’s rather fetching but I wanted to know what  _ you _ thought dear” or “I saw this lovely movie with a quite rakish leading man and he reminded me of you. Did you get that haircut so that it would make you look more like a movie star?” 

What exactly was Crowley to say to things like that? The angel could be frustratingly obtuse, maddengly, innocently flirty or just simply confounding at times. He reminded Crowley of the chatty ladies Aziraphale sometimes had over for a book club he’d started a few months ago. Full of smiles and compliments and little stories and complaints about their children and grandchildren and husbands. Their hands fluttered like butterflies wings, their laughter at jokes that simply weren’t funny twittered like bird song, and Aziraphale fit in with them all too well. For they were sweet and a little obnoxious and so was he. 

Crowley was glad Aziraphale had made some new friends. It was easy for him to do, being that any creature with a heartbeat instantly fell in love with the angel. (Crowley was no exception, though he’d never admit it out loud). The angel needed friends outside of just one grumpy demon. And now, after the world  _ hadn’t  _ ended, after Lucifer was disowned by Adam and sent packing back to the nether regions of Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley also needed to find a new way to be in the world. 

  
  


** _‘Ill be a little la’_ **

Ah, He’d be a little late to lunch. He’d pressed the send button too early again. And despite the fact that Crowley could easily tell what the rest of the sentence would be, he knew Aziraphale would likely make, at minimum, two more attempts to send him the completed version. This would probably take five more whole minutes. 

Crowley sighed and felt a smile play across his lips at the thought of Aziraphale, face screwed up with concentration, probably standing in his bookshop, peering down at the glowing screen, trying not to utter three hundred year old curses as he tapped out the carefully constructed words with his plump little thumbs. 

Not that the demon didn’t greatly enjoy his friendship with the angel. Especially now, post ApocaWasn’t, when they could start the awkward but rewarding process of relaxing into their connection, without fearful eyes cast over shoulders, without subtle meetings in parks and on buses. But in spite of this new found freedom, or maybe because of it, Crowley was nervous that he wasn’t being,  _ hadn’t been _ the best influence on Aziraphale. He was cranky, grumpy, short, cynical. He snapped at Aziraphale too often and wasn’t kind enough to the angel. He didn’t want his demonic bad mood to rub off on Aziraphale.

And why was he so cranky? Well, if he were honest with himself (which he rarely was these days. Honesty with oneself was hard work and quite unpleasant), it was because he didn’t know how to  _ be _ around the angel. 

Aziraphale was effortlessly friendly and affectionate with him. He was caring, considerate, and warmly welcoming. He always had a cup of coffee or tea, or a bottle of wine for the demon… always made sure he had a comfy blanket (usually of tartan pattern) folded neatly and awaiting Crowley for the nights he crashed on Aziraphale’s couch for one of his beloved naps. He was often plying Crowley with questions about his day, or asking for his opinion. He was lovely really. He always had been. Well, not  _ always _ maybe, the demon admitted to himself with a smirk. There were times he could be a right bastard. But for all of the angel’s quirks and irritating qualities, he was generally a pure delight to be around.

The sweetness, the concern.. The pure, _angelic_ _love_ that the angel beamed at Crowley was too much for the demon. Firstly, Aziraphale didn’t have a compelling reason to hold Crowley at arms length anymore. No one was watching them, waiting to catch them spending time together, and the angel had blossomed under this sudden freedom, relaxing instantly into their new free association, whereas Crowley hadn’t yet caught up. 

Crowley was still used to what he thought of as “the old Aziraphale”. The Aziraphale who’s warm glances were always tempered by a sort of nervous tension. Who tutted with disapproval whenever Crowley mentioned tempting humans into minor sins and who nervously kept them physically apart at almost all times, routinely pulling back as if burnt when he forgot himself and laid a reassuring hand to Crowley’s back or leaned against Crowley when they were drunk in the back of the bookshop. 

Secondly, the sweetness and kindness and the doting attention was all part of how Aziraphale naturally was with everyone. Those behaviors weren’t specific to Crowley. Crowley was simply now allowed to receive the angel’s sun rays of affection, whereas before, the angel had had to hold back, for fear of discovery and reprisal from their opposing sides.

Crowley was a demon. Demon’s didn’t deserve the kind of love that Crowley wished Aziraphale would feel for him. Romantic love. Deep, abiding, romantic love. Passionate love. Love that left Crowley confused and thrilled at the same time. Love that made his chest clench painfully when Aziraphale flashed him his golden smile. 

The knowledge that Aziraphale’s flirty affection and considerate favors and bright smiles were really just part of who he was made Crowley grumpy. And so he was stuck, partway between needing Aziraphale to love him more specifically, and in feeling as if he’d never deserve such a thing, even if it were possible. It was a miserable state to be in.

If he was perfectly honest, buying the angel a smartphone was a way to put some much needed distance between them. He’d insisted that Azirphale started texting instead of calling. He’d refused to answer Aziraphale’s calls for weeks, responding to each one with a text that read something along the lines of ‘’ ** _yes angel?_ ** ’ or ‘ ** _what do you need?_ ** ’ until Aziraphale got the picture committed himself to learning how to text. It hurt more than a little to watch the phone ring, without rushing to pick it up like he usually did, but Crowley needed some small piece of distance between them to keep himself in check. And really, he told himself. It was good for the angel, who was still proud of himself for learning how to use his ancient rotary phone, and who wore clothing that regularly got him stopped on the street by people who wanted pictures with him, thinking he was a Doctor Who period piece cosplayer. That ridiculous bowtie and antique velveteen waistcoat the angel wore were last updated in 1949 and 1832 respectively. 

It had been rough on Aziraphale at first, but then, slowly but surely, he’d gotten into the swing of texting. Or had committed himself to it anyway. It was, after all a form of writing and had intimately to do with words. And so it wasn’t so completely foreign to the angel. He had an antique Royal Standard No. 1 typewriter in the back of the shop that he used sometimes to type up letters when he wasn’t feeling like using a quill and ink. He’d peck away at it, tiny round spectacles perched on his nose, fingers stabbing delicately down onto the round keys with surprising accuracy. He’d acquired it in 1910 and had kept it in excellent condition this whole time. 

He also had an ancient computer. New to Aziraphale’s antique sensibilities, but prehistoric by any reasonable or normal person’s standards. He’d sent Crowley a few emails over the decades. Maybe three or four, but the angel mostly used the machine to reluctantly keep track of his minute book sales and not much else.

Texting wasn’t all that different than using an old typewriter was it? It just took some minor adjustments of one’s outlook. Aziraphale doggedly sent incomplete, barely comprehensible text after text. Crowley, aloof and devilish as always, but also a logical taskmaster, had only responded to the ones that made sense. 

‘ ** _I’ll be a little late to lunch my dear’_ **

There we go! He’d gotten it all out properly now. The text was followed by several smiley emojis. Emojis and stickers were something Aziraphale had taken to immediately, being that they were easy to use, and they allowed him to smile, even electronically. He’d also gotten into the habit of just sending random animal and food emojis to Crowley by way of saying hello. *coffee emoji* *muffin emoji* *croissant emoji* meant “good morning, want to go get breakfast?”. 

‘ ** _No worries angel. I’m not going anywhere’ _ ** Crowley texted back, his fingers flying across the screen, and hit send. 

A minute later, a grinning emoji popped up on his screen. 

  
  


** _‘Please order me a piece of that coffjee cakE I like, would you dear?’_ **

  
  


Some people, upon finding out how time consuming texting could be, would have left off the “would you dear?” portion, but not Aziraphale. Neither Hell (literally) nor high water would stop him from being polite and affectionate. Crowley smiled again, and raised a hand to the waitress to order the angel’s cake and an extra cup for coffee. 

20 minutes later, Aziraphale bustled distractedly into the shop and plunked himself down across from Crowley, sparing him a sunny smile and gratefully reaching for his coffee cup and urn. “I’m ever so sorry for being late dear boy” he was a touch breathless Crowley noted. “I had a new shipment of first editions arrive this morning, and it took me longer than usual to get them sorted.”

“S’fine angel” Crowley replied “I ordered you that cake you like. I told them not to bring it over until they saw an antique gentleman in a bow tie walk in”

“Crowley! I am  _ not _ an antique!” Aziraphale’s little frown at Crowley’s words dissolved swiftly though as he looked expectantly over at the counter and caught the eye of the waitress. He gave her a little wave and a brief smile. Crowley couldn’t see her as his back was turned to the counter, but he could see Aziraphale’s eyes gleam briefly as they connected with hers, he could see the polite little nod of recognition he gave her.  _ Another one bites the dust  _ he thought. 

Once the delivery of his cake was assured, Aziraphale returned his attention to Crowley “And how are you today Crowley?” the angel asked before taking a sip of his coffee, to which he’d added several sugars and a blop of cream. 

“I’m fine angel. Though, truth be told, I’m not sure what to do with myself these days.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well..” Crowley was unsure of what he was trying to say. “Back before all this craziness, when we thought the world was going to end, I had a purpose…  _ we  _ had a purpose. Avert the apocalypse. Stop Armageddon from happening right? But now, now that it’s all over, I’m not sure what my role is really. Do I keep tempting? Keep spreading dissent and discord? Do I retire to some island in the Caribbean? Do I get a ‘real job’?”

“Hmmm” Azirapahle looked thoughtful for a moment, “What is it you’d like to do dear?”

“That’s just it!” Crowley was suddenly a bit exasperated. “I’m not sure. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy tempting humans. It’s hard to stop being wily when one has been wily for six thousand some odd years. I’ve just never done anything else, aside from the random blessing for you as part of the ole Arrangement” He pointedly ignored Aziraphale’s beaming face at his mention of helping the angel with blessings over the centuries. “I feel a bit adrift to be honest”

At that moment, the waitress, grinning from ear to ear, came over with a generous slice of Aziraphale’s coffee cake on a small white plate. Crowley was fairly certain she’d given the angel much thicker than normal piece and he wasn’t surprised. “Oh thank you my dear!” Exclaimed Aziraphale happily, eyes alight with glee. Dessert was second to the top of his list of things he loved most about their long assignment to earth. It sat firmly under books as the angel’s favorite earthly pleasures. Crowley couldn’t agree, but he could understand. He could also, silently and sullenly wish he were anywhere close to the top of that short list of things Aziraphale loved. 

The demon preferred wine, and the occasional joint to food. He preferred the pleasures of sleep to that of books, and, on occasion, when the loneliness and longing of being near Aziraphale but being unable to touch him how he wanted to grew too much, he enjoyed a bit of self stimulation. He was unsure if Aziraphale indulged similarly, but he regrettably assumed not. 

The waitress a soft woman in her mid 50s, just a bit older than Aziraphale’s corporation appeared to be (from the outside at lease, the angel was a well preserved middle aged man), beamed from ear to ear and placed a warm hand on Aziaphale’s cream colored shoulder. “Of course deary! Such a handsome bloke deserves an extra big piece of cake.” She loved Aziraphale instantly of course. There was precious little not to love. 

Crowley took a few swift moments to let his eyes play over the angel’s face while Aziraphale reached up to give the waitresses’s hand a little squeeze and rewarded her with another megawatt smile. His bright hazel eyes gleamed. His soft, expressive lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth. His cute nose, with the little bump towards the end of the bridge crinkled sweetly as he smiled up at her. 

Crowley looked away swiftly when he felt his heart start to hammer in his chest at the sight of Aziraphale’s face, suffused with angelic love. Sometimes simply looking at Aziraphale was painful. Luckily, he’d long ago adopted the habit of hiding his eyes behind dark shades. 

“Thank you dearest” The angel cooed at the now besotted waitress. “Would you be able to bring me some more of this lovely cream? And a refill for our coffee urn?”

“For you poppet? Anything” Waitresses were natural charmers. They often used pet names and light touches on customers. It helped with tips, but also, if you were a middle aged woman of good humor who brought people food and drink for a living, it had to come with the territory. She quickly bustled off back to the counter to fetch what Aziraphale had asked for, humming contentedly, with an extra bounce to her step.

“It’s unreal how you do that” Crowley remarked, his cynical tone a thin veneer that barely covered up his admiration for the angel’s skill. 

“Oh dearest, you could do that too if you wanted” Aziraphale was blushing prettily though at the compliment as he cut a large forkful of cake, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing blissfully.

“No angel, I couldn’t. I could make her leave work early and meet me out back for shag in the Bently, or I could influence her to steal another waitresses tips, but love? That’s your department. People just love you… everyone does” He bit his words off sharply at that, the almost admission, and covered for his error by taking a long gulp of black coffee. 

“Crowley really. You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“No of course not angel. She’s a nice enough lady. I try to keep my trouble making to light annoyances and inconveniences. And then only to people who are insufferable twats. But that doesn’t change the fact that lust, greed and envy are really all that I deal in. I don’t do love”.

He wondered briefly at the look of sadness that flitted across Aziraphale’s fine features upon hearing this last part, but chalked it up instantly to angelic disapproval at Crowley’s cynical attitudes on the subject. 

“How’s the cell phone treating you?” he asked, suddenly a bit desperate for a change of subject. “Has it replaced your love of books yet?”

“Hardly” replied Aziraphale through another mouthful of cake, his cheek bulging adorably as he chewed. “I do believe that I’m getting the hang of this texting thing though. What do you think dear?”

Crowley decided to be magnanimous. “Oh yeah angel. You’re getting  _ much better _ with the texting” He followed this up with a sly grin. 

Aziraphale either didn’t pick up on the subtle sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “Really? It’s good to hear you say that. It’s hard to press those tiny little buttons. They don’t react like a typewriter’s keys or even like the keys of my computational machine”

“Computer” Crowley corrected him absently. It’s not a  _ velocipede _ , its a bicycle. It’s not a ‘ _ cinematographic show _ ’, it’s simply a TV show. He found Aziraphale’s antiquated vocabulary endlessly charming, but he couldn’t let him go about the world talking like some 19th century throwback. Not if he were to hang out with Cool Guy Crowley. 

“That’s because those keys are physical and these are electronic” Crowley reminded him patiently. 

“You’re quite right” the angel replied, stopping for a quick sip of coffee and to throw another breathtaking smile and a kind word at the waitress who’d come back to drop off the cream and the fresh urn of coffee. “It’s unsettling, not to feel the press of a physical object when one touches the keys on this cellular phone. I want to feel that satisfying sinking feeling under my fingertips that tells me the letter has been imprinted on the page.. Or the screen rather, and with the cellular phone, I’m just tapping my thumbs onto a sheet of glass”

“That’s probably why they add those little typing sounds” supplied Crowley helpfully. “To trick your brain into believing that you’ve actually hit a button.”

“Hmmm. That does make sense.” the angel remarked. “So, what are you up to today? Care to join me on my trip to the market? I need some fresh vegetables for something I’m cooking tonight.” without waiting for an answer, he rambled on “come to think of it, you could join me for dinner too! I’m anxious to see what you think of my cooking skills”. The angel had installed a kitchen upstairs in his bookshop after the armageddon had been averted.

Crowley knew he’d agree to coming over to Aziraphale’s eventually, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. That would never do. He had to keep some semblance of his dignity didn’t he? “I’d love to angel, really I would, but not tonight. Tonight, I have plans. Demon stuff. I’m sure you understand.”

Aziraphale looked satisfyingly crestfallen for a moment, but then rallied. “Oh, OK. I’ll simply freeze you some leftovers so you can try my cooking later”

“I’d like that angel” Crowley responded and realized that yes, he would like that. He enjoyed Aziraphale’s mothering of him very much. 

They chatted amiably for an hour or so about everything and nothing. The traffic, where to buy decent wine, their memories of ancient Rome, those insufferable reality television programs and how Aziraphale was certain they’d been Hell’s doing. Aziraphale’s unbridled chuckle and flashing eyes had Crowley completely entranced, to the point where he didn’t realize that the sun had gotten low in the sky and that the street lights were popping on outside. “It’s gotten late” he said, forcing himself to lean back, to get up from the table and go and find the check. Aziraphale looked a bit disappointed, but he insisted on paying for the cake and coffee and walked Crowley out to the Bentley.

“Can I drop you anywhere?” Crowley asked, silently wishing Aziraphale would say yes.

“No dear, but thank you,. It’s a lovely evening. I think I’ll walk to the market”. 

“Suit yourself. Later angel” Crowley swung himself into the driver’s side of the Bentley and squealed away into the now far less congested streets of downtown London. 

When he got home he’d planned on getting a bit dolled up and going out for a drink. By himself. Like a proper batchelor. Maybe flirt with a few sloshed humans or (more likely lately) just drink himself silly and totter home for a session of guilty masturbation, picturing Aziraphale’s disapproving eyes gleaming at him over his soft, frowning mouth. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

But instead, he’d found himself unaccountably exhausted and had fallen into bed for a nap. 

He was woken partially around 1:30am by the buzzing of his cell phone on the night stand. Damn it all, he hadn’t turned it to silent before passing out. He tried to get back to sleep, but the phone buzzed again. Most likely Aziraphale. Saying something charmingly pointless. Crowley opened one, gleaming yellow eye and fished around for the phone. It took him a couple of tries to unlock it and click over to the text thread marked “Aziraphale”, and then he squinted, one eyed at the screen, trying to get the small, blurred words to come into focus.

‘ ** _The lasagna turned out quite phantasmagoric_ ** ’

Crowley chuckled at that. It was clearly a predictive text cock up. But even more humorous was the fact that Aziraphale had clearly spelled the word “phantasmagoric” often enough in his daily routine for his phone to suggest it as an option, which the angel had mistakenly allowed to prefill. 

The second text read: ‘ ** _wish you had been here_ ** .  ** _You’ll have to try some next time you stop by_ ** ’

This was followed up by a tomato emoji, an eggplant emoji and a slice of pizza emoji. Crowley grinned. Not bothering with typing out a specific response, he hit the thumbs up button and clicking the phone into sleep mode, proceeded to put  _ himself _ back into sleep mode for another several hours. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale heard the telltale ping of his phone going off that indicated that Crowley had texted back and he eagerly picked it up and scrolled down to see the demon’s response. What he saw was both confusing and thrilling.

It was a heart emoji. A small, red one. 

Aziraphale was not the most technologically advanced of beings, but he knew what a red heart meant. And he knew he’d never seen anything even close to this explicitly sentimental from the demon before. It was so unusual, that he briefly considered that it had been sent by mistake. But Crowley was so very skilled with his phone. His fingers flew across the keys with perfect accuracy every time he sent a message to Aziraphale. There were never any spelling mistakes. But also definitely no hearts. Ever. 

But hadn’t the demon said he’d be out this evening, doing “demon things”? So he’d be conscious and aware of his surroundings. It seemed he had likely been fully awake when he’d sent this sentimental red heart.  _ An undeniable symbol of love _ .

It didn’t help that Aziraphale desperately wanted it  _ not  _ to be a mistake. He had in fact been waiting for way too many long years for some sign from the infuriatingly handsome Crowley that there was something,  _ anything  _ beneath his cynical veneer that approached romantic interest in the angel. 

Post averted-Armageddon, Crowley had been a little bit more distant. While Aziraphale had reveled in the freedom to finally express some of his long pent up affection towards Crowley, the demon had disappointingly pulled back further from him. He’d practically forced this new cellular phone onto Aziraphale and had stopped answering his calls, preferring to text instead. And he’d shied away from Aziraphale’s touch, had started ducking away from Aziraphale’s longing glances as if they disturbed him. The angel may not have been the best judge of character, but he was certain he’d picked up on an interest from the demon over the centuries. An interest in something at least. Maybe in something base and physical, but something beyond friendship. 

They of course hadn’t been able to act on it before, what with vengeful angels and demons clocking their connection and with the literal end of the world on their doorstep, but Aziraphale had hoped, perhaps naively that they would be able to explore their connection further, more intimately now that the heat was off as it were. 

At first, the cellular phone had been highly aggravating. Not only did it represent a wedge between he and Crowley, one that Crowley himself had disappointingly insisted on, but the phone had also been completely incomprehensible to Aziraphale. At least in the beginning. Crowley had patiently sat with him at his writing desk and shown him how to open the phone, how to access the texting app and how to send and receive texts. That had been nice. The two of them, knees gently touching, heads bowed together over the incredibly responsive yet mysteriously difficult machine. 

Crowley had patiently showed him how use the camera and how to send photos, though Aziraphale had yet to take advantage of those options. And of course, how to send emojis. Those adorable little smiley faces and pictures that Aziraphale was becoming quite fond of. 

After what felt like months of careful practice, Aziraphale was finally able to send and receive texts with something approaching competence. It was the most technologically advanced thing he’d ever learned to do, and he was proud of himself for doing it. And it was fun! He could see why people walked around with a phone in front of their face all day long. With Crowley’s help, he’d accessed email via the web browser and had started emailing book sellers around the country, instead of sending them paper letters. It took him almost as long to type them out, but the sending was far easier. Simply press a button on the screen and the email was gone. Like a miracle! 

He was far better at emailing business acquaintances than he was at texting Crowley. For one, Mr. Ira Hornblatt in Pittsburgh PA USA didn’t make his heart race the way Crowley did. His texts to Crowley ended up full of spelling errors as his nervous thumbs stumbled across the screen. Words were so much more profound and important when written down (in any manner), than they were spoken into the air, to disappear without a physical trace. 

He’d texted a bit with Anathema and Newt and Dierdre (He and Crowley had kept up with them in the days after the events at the Tadfield airbase). But mostly, he texted Crowley. Of course he did. The demon was the most fascinating, intriguing, exciting person he’d ever met and would ever be likely to meet. His only semi constant companion through the millennia they’d both been tasked to work down here (or up here from Crowley’s perspective). 

Crowley had long since left the category of adversary, and he was no longer simply a friend. He was a close, dear companion. A beacon in the darkness of never ending immortality. The only constant in Aziraphale’s long long life, other than the myriad of human beings that came and went, like flashes of fireflies in the darkness of eternity. And he was a  _ good  _ companion too. Funny, smart, caring, protective and so very kind (though he’d outright deny it if Aziraphale remarked on this). He had swooped in at the last minute to pull Aziraphale out of quite a few scrapes and close calls over the centuries. He’d kept the angel company on many long and would-have-been lonely nights, filled with laughter and sarcastic barbs and drinks. 

But even more than that. Aziraphale loved Crowley. Fiercely. Deeply. In ways he couldn’t quite understand and struggled to come to terms with. He should not have even struck up this strange friendship to begin with. He should have turned the demon away that very first time they spoke, back so long ago in the Garden on the wall of the Eastern Gate. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d been intrigued by Crowely’s dark copper curls and expressive yellow eyes. 

He had heard tell of demons from the other angels. That they were repulsive, slimy, amoral. That they would steal from you, lie to you, betray you and try to discorporate you any chance they had and that it was best to smite them with the holiest of fires if one were to ever encounter one. 

But Crowley fit none of these negative descriptions. He wasn’t slimy at all. Instead he was smooth and glossy. Tall and lanky. Sleek and … well…  _ very sexy. _ Aziraphale hadn’t known what sexual desire was before he felt it curl hotly in his lower belly when he looked at Crowley. It surprised him, these feelings of tingling and tight aching that Crowley seemed to create inside him with his flashing smile and velvety voice. Angels were certainly not meant to feel this way. It had scared him a little how quickly his fascination over Crowley’s unique looks and sly charm had turned to a persistent desire to get physically close to him.

But he hadn’t given in to the temptation. He’d kept himself as distant from Crowley as he could manage. Polite. Wary. On guard. 

And later, not very much later, he got to see more than just Crowley’s beauty and sex appeal. He learned of his cynical drawl. His dark sense of humor. His infuriating ways of teasing and poking at Aziraphale until Aziraphale didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or throttle him from pure frustration. He got to know Crowley’s sensitive heart and his caring nature. His sleeping habits. His eating habits (spare though they were). He got to know the wines Crowley liked best and his favorite types of whiskey and all the moves his shoulders and hands made as he spoke…and what made him laugh, ....and what made him cry.

After six millennia, he knew Crowley.  _ Extremely well _ . And he had no doubt that Crowley knew him in all the same ways. He could sense something, underneath their long standing friendship. Something delicate and true and pure that could just possibly be love… maybe? Aziraphale had hoped that the glances the demon gave him, the gentle touches when they were drunk that lingered just a bit too long. The soft tone his voice took on when he was reassuring Aziraphale that the body swap would work, that they’d live through it and make their way back to each other again. Aziraphale hoped that all these little things maybe, just maybe, added up through some miraculous equation to something deeper. But he’d had no explicit proof of it.

_ Until now. _

Until now, as he looked down at his phone at this small conglomeration of red pixels that made up a shape synonymous with human love. The humans had used the heart symbol, possibly derived from the leaves of an ancient plant on the shores of some African river, to symbolize love for hundreds of years. It had picked up in popularity in the 20th and 21st centuries and had made its way irrevocably into modern day popular culture as a way to express romantic love. It graced the cover of Valentine’s Day chocolate boxes and sweet little lockets given to besotted maidens. And here it was, small and red and glowing cheerily on the screen of Aziraphale’s cell phone. Staring him in the face with utter certainty.

What was Aziraphale to do? How did one respond back to something like this? 

The angel was suddenly in a tizzy. 

He didn’t think one heart emoji warranted a sincere love confession. But he couldn’t just let the heart sit there without responding. He carefully selected a red heart emoji of his own and taking a deep, shaky breath, hit the send button. He kept his eyes fixed on the two hearts, one atop the other on his phone screen for several long minutes, waiting to see if Crowley would respond. Nothing happened. With a sigh, Azirphale put the phone down and picked up the book he’d been reading when Crowley’s text had come through. 

An hour passed… two hours. Aziraphale didn’t hear the text alert go off again, but he still picked the phone up every few minutes to check it nervously, like a fool. He had preternaturally good hearing, so he knew that no reply had come, but for some reason, he couldn’t help checking. 

Eventually, he put the book down and went to make some tea. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit steamy in this chapter... Literally and figuratively

Crowley woke blearily at about 1pm. He knew this because he grabbed his phone and checked the time. He saw a text notification from Aziraphale but decided he needed a shower before he got into communicating with the angel. Maybe he’d swing by later today to check in on him. He dropped his silk boxers to the floor and headed to the bathroom. With a snap of his fingers, the water was on and just the right temperature. He stepped under it and sighed happily, letting the hot rivulets course over his head, plastering his dark copper hair to his scalp and flow deliciously down his back, to pool briefly at his feet.

Crowley, like all occult beings, could clean himself with a snap of his fingers, though few of them did. Demons were not known for cleanliness. But Crowley adored showers. The hot water, the fragrant soap, the steam. It was glorious. Being a snake in man form made him somewhat cold blooded, and so luxuriating in a long hot shower was a thing he did whenever possible. He was almost certain Aziraphale did the same. Otherwise, how did the angel smell so damned good all the time?

_ Aziraphale _ . He probably shouldn’t be thinking of him in the shower, with hot water streaming down his naked limbs. Too late. He was already developing a swiftly stiffening erection at the thought of Aziraphale, completely naked, languorously rubbing soap all over his broad chest and soft stomach and…letting his hands creep lower and lower... 

Crowley groaned and let his head fall back against the black tile of the shower wall as he took himself in hand and began gently stroking. He pictured Aziraphale, watching him with his large hazel eyes. Standing outside the glass walls of the shower stall, fully dressed in his fussy waistcoat and shirtsleeves leaning back against the edge of the sink. He pictured a look of shock on Aziraphale’s lovely face, perhaps with a hand to his mouth, eyes wide with the sight of Crowley touching himself. Pictured him blushing as he let his eyes roam down Crowley’s body to rest on his slowly pumping fist. 

_ Oh dear Satan  _ Crowley felt his desire mount as he thought about what it would be like to put on a show for Aziraphale. To be walked in on by him by accident, only to have him really like what he saw and stick around to watch. What it would be like to see the shock and embarrassment on the angel’s flushed face turn slowly to intrigue and then to blatant, heated desire as he watched Crowley work himself with his hand. He pictured a slow, devious smile spreading across the angel’s lips, pictured him maybe reaching a hand down to rub himself through the front of those old fashioned trousers. 

_ You’re such a naughty demon  _ Crowley imagined Aziraphale would say in his fantasy.  _ Look at you. You just can’t keep your hands off it, can you? _

“I can’t. Not when you’re around” Crowley whispered. His words inaudible above the rush of the hot water as he continued to stroke slowly up and down the length of his cock. 

He was fully aware that spending six millennia next to a creature who was both prim and proper while simultaneously insanely attractive may have given him a few kinks. It was unavoidable really.

_ You’re so… bad  _ His fantasy angel’s grin grew wider as he kept his eyes trained on Crowley’s busy hand, his gaze hungrily taking in the sight of what his nearness did to Crowley.  _ So filthy. Just looking at you makes me feel like sinning.  _ In his imagination, Aziraphale’s voice held a note of soft dominance and surety, the tone of which tore him apart inside in the most delicate way.  _ Is that what you want Crowley? Do you want me to sin with you? Do you want me to touch myself? _

“Yes…  _ yes _ angel” Crowley whispered as he increased his speed, moaning at the tingling sensation of his soapy hand slipping up and down, giving it a little twist as he neared the head and and extra pull at the base on every down stroke. In his mind, he saw Aziraphale unzip himself and slowly reach into his pants to wrap a hand around his own cock, to stroke it along with Crowley while he watched.

_ Look what you’ve done, you naughty little demon  _ his fantasy said in a breathless voice, eyes tightening as he pleasured himself  _ you’ve made me touch myself. You’ve…. Tempted me into it. Oh I should have known you would. It’s what you do after all, tempt sweet innocent angels like me into doing bad, *bad*, dirty things. _

Crowley was getting very close. He was gasping, mouth open, eyes screwed shut, images of Aziraphale stroking himself, working himself up to a mutual orgasm with him, flashing before his mind’s eye. 

_ Will you come for me my evil, naughty *bad* little demon? Will you shoot for me? Oh Crowley, I want to watch it happen. Come for me my darling. Come for me my love.  _

“Oh  _ fuck!”  _ Crowley cried out softly as he complied with his fantasy angel’s demand, fist moving in spastic jerks along his length, cock pulsing. He pictured Aziraphale coming too, head thrown back, His throaty cries echoing against the bathroom walls. 

Eventually, the pleasurable spasms slowed and subsided and with them went his heated imaginings of naughty, passionate Aziraphale. Crowley was left alone and feeling strangely sad and remorseful as the hot shower water washed the evidence of his passion away. He was never satisfied when he masturbated to thoughts of the angel. Yes, it felt amazing while it was happening. But afterwards, he always felt lonelier. Caught up in thoughts that the angel would never want something as lascivious, as earthly and messy as sex with Crowley. Aziraphale was a being of heaven. Pure and sweet and proper. He’d probably discorporate from shock to hear that Crowley routinely pleasured himself this way. 

  
  


When he was clean and warm enough he turned off the shower and got out. Towelling himself off, he went to his closet to pick out his usual outfit of indecently tight black jeans, dark silk shirt and black jacket. 

Once he was dressed and his hair was perfectly quaffed, he sauntered over to his bedside table to pick up his phone and check his messages. He unlocked the phone and clicked on the texting app, only to freeze in surprise and confusion at what he saw on the screen. Two hearts. Small and red and unmistakable. The second one was from Aziraphale, but the  _ first _ one? HE himself had apparently sent the first one. What in the fiery pits of the ninth level of Hell had he done  _ that _ for?? He had no memory of sending a heart to the angel. It was certainly very unlike him to do something so blatantly affectionate.

He cast his mind back to the early hours of this morning, when he’d squinted, one eyed at the screen and at Aziraphale’s kind words about wishing he’d been there for dinner. He thought he’d sent a thumbs up back to the angel. Hadn’t he? People slipped when they texted all the time, but not Crowley. He had a perfect record. It was part of being a demon. He’d even claimed texting as his own invention and received a commendation for it. So many people got into car accidents and fell down manholes and generally made fools of themselves while staring down at their phones… it only seemed natural to chalk that one up to his side. 

But Crowley didn’t slip. At least he hadn’t before now. But there was the evidence. He’d sent Aziraphale a heart. And the angel had sent one back!

Of course he had. He was being sweet and reciprocal. Supportive. Affectionate. It meant nothing. Still, it made Crowley’s demon heart beat a bit faster at the thought that it might possibly have meant something… more.

He resolved to avoid the angel for the rest of the day. He was unsettled and off his game and couldn’t risk being around Aziraphale. Especially after his little interlude in the shower just now. Best to put off seeing the angel for a while. He never enjoyed staying away, but he’d enjoy it even less if he turned into a sniveling, love sick fool in front of the angel.

He texted back to Aziraphale

_ I’ll be out of town for a bit. See you in a couple of days _

There. That would put an end to this heart nonsense. 


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale finally heard the phone ping at around 1:45pm the next day. He rushed over to where it sat on his writing desk and eagerly navigated to the text app. 

_ I’ll be out of town for a bit. See you in a couple of days _

He felt his heart sink into his feet and his mouth go dry. Well, that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. What  _ had _ he been expecting though exactly? Maybe something a bit warmer than  _ See you in a couple of days  _ perhaps. 

Oh well, he should have known better than to think Crowley would somehow shower him with words of love and longing, just because he’d sent one little heart emoji. On the up side, the demon hadn’t mentioned anything about it being a mistake, so it It  _ had  _ been sent on purpose after all. The knowledge was a small comfort.

Aziraphale sighed deeply and began bustling about, making sure everything was ready for his book club meeting tonight. He’d be serving cucumber tea sandwiches, little mini quiches, bowls of nuts, an assortment of cheeses with fancy crackers and some homemade almond marmalade cookies (post Armageddon-that-never-was he’d discovered that he loved baking. Partly for the sensual pleasure of kneading the dough, the industrious, useful feeling of stirring and measuring, but also because it simply cut out the middleman between him and his beloved baked goods). 

Aziraphale adored hosting get togethers. He didn’t know why he’d spent so many centuries not playing host to groups of friends in his home. Probably because getting too close to humans was frowned upon by Upstairs. But now, things were different. He didn’t have to always consider what Gabriel would approve of (or what the archangel would find out about) when he went about his day. 

He had grown extremely fond of the ladies in the book club. It was surprising and fortuitous really that such a nice, friendly group of women had randomly responded to his add for a book club meetup. There was Beatrice, a 68 year old retired magazine editor, Jennifer, a 32 year old corporate lawyer, Suzanne, a 50 year old stay at home mother of five with a wealthy husband and Jennette, a 47 year old sometime jazz and motown singer and professional baker, who, to Aziraphale’s extreme pleasure, sometimes brought amazing baked goods to the meet ups and gave him some great tips. The main thing they all had in common was their love of literature. Which was enough to make the book club meetings very enjoyable.

Maybe he could ask their opinion on what to do about Crowley’s hot and cold text messages. 

The group had met Crowley and saw him now and again when he stopped by, briefly. They’d found him very  _ very _ interesting. Aziraphale smiled at the memory of their first time encountering the demon.

He’d come sauntering in one evening, months ago, forgetting that Thursdays were Aziraphale’s book club meeting nights, and had stopped short when he’d seen 8 pairs of female eyes turn on him in sudden curiosity where they’d gathered around Aziraphale’s snack covered card table.

He’d apologized for interrupting, mumbled out a “So angel… breakfast tomorrow morning?” and upon seeing Aziraphale’s nod of agreement had high tailed it out of there. The 8 pairs of eyes had immediately swivelled back to Aziraphale.

“Oh. My.  _ GOD _ .” whispered Jenn theatrically. “Who the HELL was  _ that _ ??” 

“Mmmmmm” hummed Jeannette, eyebrows creeping up nearly to her hairline. “I’d like me a piece of whatever he’s got under those jeans”

Aziraphale had blushed a bright pink and had fidgeted uncomfortably with his tea cup. “That’s… well… that’s my friend Crowley” he’d managed to get out. 

“ _ Friend _ ? Seriously Ezrah?” Jeannette looked unconvinced, “he called you ‘angel’ for christ’s sake.”

“Oh, that’s just an old nickname he uses for me” Aziraphale, still blushing furiously, looked down at his lap where his hands around his first edition copy of Wuthering Heights were suddenly a bit damp. 

“Sooo.” drawled Suzanne suggestively. “Ever want to be  _ more than friends _ ?” 

The book club ladies had pretty quickly assumed that Aziraphale was gay. His stylish, bleached blond pixie cut and delicate mannerisms and the way he warmly and readily enjoyed spending time with a group of ladies, discussing romance classics didn’t help matters. And although Aziraphale hadn’t ever felt sexual attraction for anyone other than Crowley, Crowley was,  _ technically _ male, so he’d gone along with the ladies’ assumptions. 

“Oh… well… if I’m to be perfectly honest, ..um… yes. I *would* in fact rather enjoy it if we became… more than friends” he’d remarked, feeling a thrill of adrenaline course through him at having said it out loud for the very first time. 

“Of course you would” This from Jenn “Just look at the arse on im. And those lips? Oh boy Ezrah. He is a  _ dish _ and a half!” 

“Yes… um… yes.. He  _ is _ rather… attractive isn’t he?” Aziraphale admitted in possibly the world’s most understated opinion of all time, grinning from ear to ear. Why had he waited so long to get himself some lady friends? It was ever so freeing to talk about Crowley this way with someone who understood how he felt and agreed with him.

“More like smokin fuckin hot” remarked Jeannette, never one to mince words. “So what’s the hold up? He clearly wants to spend time with you. What… does he not fancy blokes?”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain he fancies men  _ and  _ women, and um.. Anyone in between” Aziraphale remarked, a touch regretfully, remembering some rather ribald stories Crowley had regaled him with when they’d both been extra pissed a few decades prior. Not that he was jealous. More envious if anything.

“Ahhh” Suzane remarked knowingly. “Pansexual is he? My eldest told me about that. It means he can be attracted to anyone, regardless of what their naughty bits look like”

“Everyone but me apparently” Aziraphale had remarked sadly. 

“Does he have someone special already?” Asked Beatrice gently.

“No. Not that I’m aware of” Aziraphale had said with a sigh. God (or perhaps Satan?) only knew what Crowley was up to in the evenings he wasn’t around Aziraphale, but if he had a lover, he was incredibly good at hiding it. And he was nothing if not blatantly, overwhelmingly, torturously honest with Aziraphale about his sexual habits, so the angel doubted there was someone else. 

  
  


“Oh come now deary” Beatrice leaned across the card table to place a reassuring hand on Aziraphale’s sleeve. “Anyone who calls you ‘angel’ and stops by just to invite you to breakfast surely thinks very highly of you.” 

“He  _ must  _ love you!” Suzanne chimed in with a broad smile. “Everyone loves you. Especially us, don’t we girls? You’re too handsome and sweet for anyone not to be head over heels for you dear.”

Aziraphale beamed at the compliments as the other ladies chimed in in agreement. They were ever so kind to him. And eventually, after his guests had made a few more comments on choice parts of Crowley’s anatomy, the discussion had progressed from there, eventually winding its way back to Emily Bronte’s work. 

Ever since then, at least one of the book club ladies would bring up Crowley at each meeting, asking if there had been any progress made. Aziraphale always responded that there hadn’t been, but that they were probably destined to stay friends.. And really it was better that way in the long run. The ladies had looked unconvinced. 

________________________________

  
  


It was 7:30, and the book club women were all settled once again with their tea and martinis and little drinks with umbrellas (Aziraphale was nothing if not a good provider of fancy beverages). He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention before they started in talking about Jane Eyre, and stammered out “Um… I’d appreciate a bit of romantic advice if you ladies wouldn’t mind”

All four of them were instantly agreeable. “Oh yes deary!” Beatrice exclaimed, eyes shining as she lifted her martini for a sip “do tell!”

“Well…” Aziraphale continued. “He sent me a rather telling text early this morning” There was no need to specify whom he meant by “he”.

“Ooooh! What’d it say?” this from Jenn, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she reached for another cucumber sandwich. 

“It… well, he didn’t exactly  _ say _ anything. He um… sent me a heart emoji”

The women erupted in squeals and gasps of surprised pleasure. There was much stomping of feet and pounding of fists on the table and high pitched noises and a rather loud cry of “you GO bitch!” from Jenn, who was a bit tipsy at this point. 

“Oh my gosh! Ezrah! That’s wonderful!” Jeannett exclaimed excitedly. “What did you say back?” All four women looked at him expectantly, eyes shining.

“Oh nothing really.” Aziraphale was suddenly a bit nervous, now that he had a rapt audience. “I just sent a heart back to him. That’s all.” He smoothed his hands down the front of his waistcoat. “And then,... well then, he didn’t reply for a long time, not until a couple of hours ago actually, and he said he’d be out of town for a couple of days. That doesn’t sound very promising does it?”

“Hmmm” remarked Jenn as she took another sip of her martini. “Sounds like he’s playing head games.” 

“Oh I don’t know” Suzanne replied, mouth half full of cashews “perhaps he simply had to leave town for a couple of days and he’s not good at expressing his feelings”

“Nah” Jenn replied. “Head games. He’s running hot and cold. Fear of commitment and all that” 

“What should I do?” Aziraphale hoped that Crowley wasn’t toying with him. Their relationship from a few hundred years after Rome had been very stable and respectful, open and honest for the most part. Ever since the averted Apocalypse however, things had grown murky. His warm invitations to a more intimate connection had been side stepped repeatedly, until Azirphale had started to doubt if Crowley truly cared about him as a friend any longer. 

“Call him and tell him how you feel!” Jeannett gushed, hands gripping Aziraphale’s sleeve and eyes gleaming. “The direct approach is always best!”

“Dear god no!” Exclaimed Jenn, always the cynic. “That’s the  _ last  _ thing you want to do. You should just text back ‘Whatever’”

“Whatever?” Aziraphale was uncertain.

“Yeah!” insisted Jenn. “Whatever. Like you couldn’t care less”

“No, no” Suzanne chimed in. “Don’t be  _ that person _ , I hate that passive aggressive stuff. You should say ‘I can’t wait to see you again’ and send another heart. Or maybe one of those grinning devil faces… you know… show him what’s on your mind”

Aziraphale was a tad overwhelmed. So may ways to respond when you could simply send some electronic pixels out into the void. It took some of the anxiety out of communicating, because you didn’t have to be there when the person read your words. But it added a new level too, because you had to wait to find out their response. Like letter writing, but infinitely more expedient. And just the knowledge that the person  _ could  _ respond immediately if they received the text and had the time to do so, made lengthy pauses between responses almost unbearable. Perhaps someone on Crowley’s side  _ had _ invented texting?

“Oh I don’t know” he sighed, I feel a bit like Jane honestly” (he was referring to Jane Eyre of course.), and Crowley is a grumpy, unreadable Mr. Rochester. Sometimes he’s kind and friendly and sometimes he’s distant. And I’m just here pining away… confused.” 

“Well,” Beatrice remarked gravely “We all know what worked for Jane… she spoke up about how she felt. Even though it hurt and it was really scary. You should just tell him how you feel. Text him. You don’t have to say it to his face if you don’t want to”. 

“Should I?” Aziraphale was torn. “Part of me feels like it would be easier than just repressing it all the time. Then, at least I’d know where I stood.” What Aziraphale couldn’t say however, was that unlike when a human person reached out and expressed their desire for another human person, he had infinitely more to lose. An infinity of friendship and companionship to risk ruining in fact. If he chased Crowley away, then he had to face the possibility of an eternity without him. Just the thought made his stomach clench.

This seemed to get unanimous approval, even from Jenn, who’d dropped her “play it cool” advice in order to nod along with the rest of the ladies. 

“Can I do it now? While you’re all here to support me?” Aziraphale asked

He was greeted with a chorus of loud cheers.

He picked up his cell phone and thought for a moment, then typed a text out with shaking thumbs and hit send.


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley of course hadn’t gone out of town. He hated lying to the angel, but he didn’t think he could handle being near him right now. Not without slipping and giving away his feelings. 

He  _ had  _ however gone out for a drink to a local club he liked. It was dark and moody and played pulsing dance music. He relaxed into a booth at the side of the dance floor, letting the waves of lust and envy and greed from the patrons wash over him and admiring the writhing bodies on the dance floor. 

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and fished it out. A text alert from Aziraphale pulsed on the screen. Taking a deep breath, he tapped the alert. 

** _I have some things I’d like to tell you_ **

Crowley gulped. OK. 

** _Shoot _ ** he texted back

** _Shoot?_ **

Crowley sighed. Of course the angel wasn’t up on modern vernacular.  ** _It means ‘tell me what you have to say’ _ ** he texted back. 

There was a long pause

____________________________________________

“I can’t just tell him through a text message!” Aziraphale lamented. “Its too impersonal!”

He’d read the exchange outloud to the ladies, who were hanging on his every word. 

“Then ask him to come over.” Beatrice suggested with a waggle to her eyebrows. 

“But… he’s out of town!” Aziraphale was getting anxious now. 

“Oh he’s totally not out of town!” Jenn slurred slightly as she nursed her second martini. “That was a load of bollocks. He’s probably at home in his flat, pretending to be busy.” She’d dated a few guys like Crowley and she knew the routine. 

  
  


“Go on deary. Tell him” Beatrice pressed. “Tell him to come to you in your chambers” This was met with gales of scandalized laughter from the other women, who clutched at their hearts and placed the backs of their hands against their foreheads in vague impressions of swooning Victorian era heroines. 

Aziraphale thought that was probably best. He concentrated for a moment, then typed out another text. 

___________________________________________

Crowley saw another text come in. 

** _Not by text message. I need you to come over dear_ **

His heart started to beat faster. What could Aziraphale want to tell him? He dared to hope that the angel was feeling the same way he was. Knowing Aziraphale though, this could all be a clever ruse to get him to come over and teach the angel how to delete his voicemails or even an underhanded way to get him to try Aziraphale’s new lasagna recipe. He couldn’t let it be more than it was on the surface, or he’d drive himself mad. 

** _M’out of town _ ** He texted back.. Still struggling to regain control of the situation. He’d show Aziraphale what aloof was. 

** _No you’re not_ **

Crowley looked around suddenly, nervous that perhaps the angel had hunted him down and was somewhere in the club. But he didn’t see him anywhere within eyesight. 

** _The ladies told me your playing hard to got_ **

Crowley felt real shock at the words on his screen. Still, he waited… 

** _Get _ ** came the inevitable correction. 

He made a mental note to have a word with these book club ladies. They were clearly demons in training. 

** _I can be there in 30 minutes_ ** He replied. He could be there in 30 seconds if he snapped his fingers, but he wasn’t quite ready to face the angel yet. Instead, he walked up to the bar. “Whiskey. Just hand me the bottle” he fished out a hundred doller bill and flicked it towards the surprised bartender. “Keep the change” he drawled as the man handed over a mostly full bottle of whiskey. 

Crowley took several long swigs until he felt his anxiety recede behind the burning, reassuring buzz of alcohol working its way through his system. Then he took a few more swigs. He had no desire to be sober for this experience. Either Aziraphale would ask him/tell him something mundane and not romantic in nature at all and he’d need the soft pillow of drunkenness to cushion his disappointment. Or, same if he were rejected. He didn’t want to be sober for a speech about “I’ve seen the way you’ve been mooning over me and I think we should stay friends” or some such painful nonsense. 

Within a few minutes, he felt appropriately drunk and started to swagger unsteadily for the door.

“Oi sir! I can’t have you leavin like that… you should-” Crowley snapped his fingers and the man immediately lost interest in him and went back to cleaning shot glasses at the bar. 

He got into the Bently and gunning the engines, headed for Aziraphale’s bookshop. His drunk driving was surprisingly better than his sober driving. 

_________________________________

“He said he’ll be here in 30 minutes” Aziraphale felt all the blood leave his face. 

“Oh yay! See? I told you he wasn’t out of town” Jenn gloated. “Those sexy bad boys are all the same. They want you to think they don’t care at all, but inside, they’re an anxious mess over you”.

“Come on ladies” Jeannett, officious as ever stood up and made shooing motions with her hands towards the door. “Its time to give our Ezrah some privacy so he can have sex with his boyfriend”

More gales of laughter ensued while Aziraphale turned a deep shade of pink. “Oh dear” he mumbled. “I doubt anything so provocative will happen. I’m sure he sees me as simply a good friend”

“Yeah right” Jenn slurred as she shrugged her jacket on over her shoulders. “And I’m the queen of England.” 

Eventually, after a few more ribald comments and fits of high pitched giggles, they’d ushered themselves out of the shop. Beatrice pausing to give Aziraphale a big hug and gentle pat to the cheek. “Be brave dearest” she said softly. “Just like Jane and her Mr. Rochester”. And then they were gone and Aziaphale was left, standing alone in a suddenly very quiet bookshop, feeling vulnerable and terrified. 

He realized that he was still clutching his copy of Jane Eyre, and it gave him an idea… 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Crowley had continued drinking on his way over. It wasn’t any more unsafe than his usual driving, and by this point, the Bentley knew how to convey him without hitting anything, even when he wasn’t really paying attention. By the time he pulled up in front of Aziraphale’s shop, he was snookered. Which was fine. He desperately needed the warm embrace of confident drunkenness to get him through whatever the angel had to say to him.

Because even if it were something minor and inconsequential,  _ Be a dear and delete these old voicemails for me  _ or  _ I knew you’d never try my lasagna without me tempting you over here somehow,  _ the absence of a deeper meaning would sting him deeply in the state he’d worked himself up to. 

And if it were something more profound, it was very likely to be a rejection of some sort. Aziraphale wasn’t capable of the lustful, hopelessly romantic feelings Crowley harbored for the angel in his heart. Aziraphale wasn’t built for it. His love was broad and wide and angelic. Not hyper focused and anguished and deep like Crowley’s. The demon’s mind tripped back, unbidden to all the times Aziraphale had tutted and blushed at and disapproved of Crowley’s amorous nature, or his sly suggestions of sinful behavior over the millennia. 

_ Crowley! Really now. You must stop speaking thusly. _

_ Don’t be crass Crowley! _

_ No! How dare you imply such a thing! _

True, there was often an undercurrent of enjoyment, and a small, shy grin accompanying some of those protestations, but getting a kick out of your adversary’s shaky moral grounding was not the same as falling helplessly in love with them was it?

Crowley parked the car half on the curb and half in the street and paused to take another long swig from the almost empty whiskey bottle before clambering out of the Bentley and swaggering his way (more stagger than swagger really) up to the door of the shop. He opened it up with a flourish and strode inside with a confidence that was only on the surface. 

He was surprised to see Aziraphale, standing near the front door, a book clutched in his hands, an anxious look on his face. 

_ So it’s about a book then is it? _ He felt his heart sink at the idea that what the angel needed to tell him so urgently was yet another factoid about an old book. How dull. 

“Hey there angel” he drawled, leaning languidly against the edge of the card table, which immediately folded under his weight, toppling him to the floor and causing mini quiches and mixed nuts and cookie crumbs to explode everywhere. 

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Aziraphale, waving his hands excitedly to miracle away the mess. He quickly stooped to right the table again and to help Crowley up. 

Crowley felt his face burn, even underneath the heat of the copious amounts of whiskey, currently working their way through his bloodstream.  _ Oh shit. Real smooth move Crowley  _ he silently admonished himself as he felt Aziraphale grasp him by the elbow and help him back onto his feet. He quickly snapped his fingers to clean the cookie crumbs and other detritus off of his shirt and pants. 

“You’re drunk?” Aziraphale asked, his voice a little hurt. 

“Yeah..sry angel. I was in a club when you texted. Trying to drink my cares away”

“Oh dear. Oh dear Crowley. I’d rather hoped you’d be sober for what I have to say to you”. Crowley felt a cold shiver of fear make its way down the back of his neck at the angel’s words. Internally, he sobered himself up just a bit. Enough to stand up straight and regain his composure, but not enough to lose the warm spell of courage the whiskey was giving him. 

Out loud though he said “I’ll do no such thing! I’ve worked hard to get this drunk. You can tell me whatever you have to say in this state, or not at all” He tempered his rough tone with a sly grin in Aziraphale’s direction, seeing the angel’s face fall a little. 

“Very well Crowley”, Aziraphale’s voice was so sad, that for a moment, Crowley almost did sober up, just to make him happy, but then he remembered that he wasn’t going to be a lovesick fool for the angel anymore and stayed partially sloshed. 

“So angel. What was it you wanted to talk about?” he ventured. Might as well get it over with now. 

“Won’t you sit down?” Asked Aziraphale, motioning to one of the two folding chairs he’d obviously set up, facing each other. Crowley sneered despite himself

“No deal angel. I prefer to stand” How dare Aziraphale treat him like a charity case? Someone he had to break it to gently. He was fairly certain by now that this little talk had nothing to do with voicemails or lasagna, and probably everything to do with a little heart emoji he hadn’t even meant to send. He stood as tall as he could, which admittedly was a few scant inches taller than the angel, and crossed his arms protectively across his chest. 

Aziraphale’s face fell further. Crowley hated the sight of it, but what did he expect, for Crowley to sit patiently while the angel explained to him that things just wouldn’t work out the way Crowley wanted them to. That to him, a little heart on a cell phone screen meant that the angel felt affection for Crowley, but nothing more. 

Aziraphale spoke, pulling him out of his pessimistic reverie. “Alright then Crowley. If you insist, then I’ll stand too.”

He lifted the book in his hands and showed it to Crowley, “Have you ever read Jane Eyre?” he asked Crowley in a voice that sounded small and uncertain.

“Angel, you know I don’t read books” Crowley snapped, more coldly than he’d meant to. His heart was hammering away in his chest and he felt fear rising with cold tendrils inside his stomach.

“No, of course not. I know you don’t read” Aziraphale mumbled. “But it’s a beautiful book Crowley. About a sweet orphan girl with a good heart, who falls rather deeply in love with a grumpy, intimidating gentleman with a mysterious past”.

“Sounds fascinating” Crowley couldn’t help the sarcastic drawl from sneaking into his voice. He ignored the pained look that put on Aziraphale’s face. He had to stay strong if he were going to make it through this without crying. He had no idea what the angel was going on about with this book, but he stayed standing, arms crossed and waited for the guillotine blade to fall. 

“I thought if you didn’t mind, I could read you some of it. It might help you understand what I want to say… without me, um, having to say it. I know that’s cowardly of me Crowley, but I’ve never been one for bravery where you’re concerned”

This was a strange development. Crowley had honestly always seen Aziraphale as quite brave. A memory of the angel, face fierce, flaming sword gripped in both hands as he stared down The Lord Of Hell sprang to mind suddenly. “Ok angel. Whatever works for you” he spat out. 

Aziraphale was clearly very unhappy at the way this was transpiring. That was all well and good. If he planned on rejecting Crowley heartlessly by using someone else’s words from a silly old book than he would have to deal with an unpleasant, terrified demon, not a sweet lamb to the slaughter. 

Azirphale swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his eyes large and sad as they glanced briefly at Crowley before looking down to the book in his hands. He flipped it open expertly to a bookmarked passage, and Crowley felt a flash of deep sympathy. Poor angel. He’d never had the opportunity to do much rejecting in his long life. Very few had ever approached him for affection. They simply loved him from a distance, much the way Crowley did. He’d kept everyone at a distance hadn’t he? While he’d spent too much time with Crowely, secretly so that their opposing sides didn’t find out, or bent over a book, hidden away in his shop. And now he had to push his closest friend away, all because he could tell Crowley was desperately in love with him. Even from within the depths of his fear and pain, with his head and heart on the proverbial chopping block, he felt compassion for Aziraphale.

Because of course he loved him so dearly and hated seeing him in pain. He’d forgotten that, in the rush to protect himself hadn’t he? He felt remorse and affection rise up inside of him in a strange mix as he reached out a hand to Aziraphale’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry” he said gravely. “I’m being a right arshole aren’t I? Please read to me from your silly old book angel. I’m sorry”. 

Aziraphale looked partly heartened by this, but still quite distraught. He brought the book up closer to his eyes, and read in a soft, hesitant voice from the page he’d bookmarked. 

_ “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you”  _ he began haltingly “  _ especially when you are near me,... as now, it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”  _ He stopped reading then glanced up at Crowley with a strange look in his eyes.

The silence stretched between them. 

Crowley was uncertain of what to do. What had that meant? A string tied to a place under the ribs? connecting two people? He was no literary genius, but he thought he could catch the drift. His own heart continued to pound relentlessly in his chest, at his throat, his wrists. 

“Aziraphale” he said softly. Not knowing what else to say. He returned the angel’s solemn gaze. “What?...”

“There’s another passage too that I’d like you to hear Crowley” Aziraphale spoke before Crowley could artlessly butcher any more uncertain monosyllables. He swiftly turned the pages and cleared his throat self consciously before reading again.Crowley noticed belatedly that the angel’s hands were shaking. 

_ “Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.” _

“What are you saying?!” Crowley was confused and scared and hopeful all at once. Why did the angel have to torture him with riddles? “That you… that you … care about me? I know that Angel”

“No..” Aziraphale spoke with a note of pleading to his voice. “No Crowley, I don’t think that you  _ do _ know it”

“Don’t be ridiculous angel. Of course I do. You... lo - love me.” He stumbled on the word, fighting a bit to push it from his mouth “Just like you love everyone. And everything. Just like you love pineapple upside down cake and feeding the ducks and holding new babies. You love everything and everyone, and I’m included in that aren’t I?” He heard his voice raise a few octaves and thought perhaps he might be on the verge of a panic attack. “You love everything” he said again, his voice trailing off to a whisper at the end. 

Aziraphale had stepped up close to him now, bringing his lovely face near to Crowley’s face, grasping Crowley’s hands in his own, soft, warm hands. He peared up at the demon with eyes that shone wetly. With tears? Crowley couldn’t understand why he might be crying. It was suddenly quite hard to breath. 

“No Crowley. I don’t love you the way that I love everyone and everything” Aziraphale said solemnly. Crowley heard his words from far away, as if the angel were on a hillside, off in the distance, yelling, but not being loud enough to be heard over the rush of a wild river. Only there was no river. There was only Crowley’s blood rushing in his ears. 

“I love you Crowley” Aziraphale’s mouth formed the words with clean precision. They were perfectly clear. Impossible to mistake for something else. Something less devastating, like  _ I’m quite fond of you _ or  _ You really are a nice demon.  _

“I  _ love you _ Crowley.” Aziraphale repeated, squeezing Crowley’s hands for emphasis. “With all of my heart and my soul. Deeply. Profoundly. I am very much  _ in love _ with you. Do you understand now?”

Crowley could only nod mutely. He still felt as if he couldn’t breath. He was frozen in place. His heart had been stuck in a holding pattern for six thousand years, circling the angel, and now, now he finally had clearance to land, and he realized he’d somehow forgotten how to fly. He was going to crash to the ground. He couldn’t breath. 

He saw the tears well up in Aziraphale’s eyes and spill over onto his soft, pale cheeks and that’s what finally broke the spell of shock and awe the angels’ words had placed over him. “Aziraphale” he began, taking a deep shuddering breath and a small step closer to the angel.

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same way Crowley” Aziraphale was speaking through tears, his voice thick and deep with what sounded like barely suppressed regret. “I would never expect anything of you that you wouldn’t give willingly. I’m quite happy to remain your friend. I’d be blessed to do so in fact.” Only his voice sounded hollow as he said it.

“Blessed?” Crowley was confused again. Why would he want to simply remain friends with Aziraphale now that the angel had confessed to loving him? Friendship was wonderful and all, but most friends didn’t do what Crowley wanted so badly to do to Aziraphale. To take the angel in his arms and kiss him soundly. And so, summoning his courage, that’s just what he did. 

He took another half step in towards Aziraphale, brought his hands up to frame the angel’s sweet, tearstained face and pulled him into a gentle kiss. 

Aziraphale melted against him so immediately, so completely, and let out such an achingly soft little moan as their lips touched that the sound of it, the feel of Aziraphale, full and sweet and solid and finally kissing him, made something inside Crowley break open. He felt the angel’s arms come around his waist and squeeze him tight, and then their mouths were open against each other, tongues questing and Crowley felt heat blossom across his chest, down his stomach and deep into his groin. He groaned into Aziraphale’s open mouth and heard Aziraphale’s answering moan as the kiss deepened further still. It sounded so good, so heated, a sound of longing and desire.  _ He desires me _ , the thought exploded inside his head like a firework.  _ He wants me like I want him _ . 

He pulled back for a moment to look into Aziraphale’s eyes, to let his gaze roam greedily over the angel’s face and saw that it was indeed true. Aziraphale’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes dilated and shining, his mouth open and wet and panting as his chest rose and fell against Crowley’s chest. He could feel the angel’s heartbeat, strong and fast against him. “Angel” He breathed, “please tell me you want me as much as I want you.”

“Oh god  _ yes _ my darling” Aziraphale’s eyes had drifted down to rest on Crowley’s mouth, but then a flash of fear played across his face for a brief moment and he raised his eyes to gaze into Crowley’s. “Do you love me then dearest?”. His finely shaped brows were knit over hazel eyes filled with cautious optimism.

“Angel, I…” Crowley paused on the cliff’s edge, afraid of flinging himself over it. Some habits die hard. But Aziraphale’s warmth and love and the feel of the angel’s tight embrace gave him courage. “I.. I am  _ torn apart  _ with loving you” Crowley’s voice was rough as he drove his fingers up into Aziraphale’s wild white hair and clenched soft fistfuls of it. “I’m so full of love for you that I’m choking on it. I can’t contain it any more or I’ll drown” And with that, he swept Aziraphale up in another kiss. 

This time there was a note of desperation in the pressure of Aziraphale’s mouth against his. The angel was pressing his body tightly against Crowley’s. Time seemed to slow down, or perhaps speed up. It was difficult to tell in the passionate flurry of movement between them. Hands grasping and pulling, mouths open, tongues seeking. Crowley thrilled to all the soft little noises coming from Aziraphale as they kissed with utter abandon. 

He broke contact with Aziraphale’s mouth, only to suckle and kiss his way down the side of the angel’s jawline, murmuring words of affection as he went. “Angel” “darling” “mine” “my love”. His kisses caused open mouth gasps of passion from Aziraphale. Crowley stopped when he encountered the angel’s ever present bow tie and with a growl, he started working it open with trembling hands. 

“Once I get this blasted thing off of you angel, I’m going to burn it in a very hot fire” he growled. 

“Crowley… pl… please. My bedroom… can we?”

Crowley’s fingers froze where they were attempting valiantly to rip apart Aziraphale’s tartan bow tie. “Are you sure?” he asked, even though the prospect of Aziraphale not being sure would kill him where he stood.. He asked anyway. He had to be certain that the angel wanting to take this further, that this wasn’t some insane, cruel fluke. 

Aziraphale removed his hands from where they’d been clutching at Crowley’s hips and brought them up to frame the demon’s face gazing into his eyes. “I want to make love with you” he said frankly and more than a little breathlessly. “I’ve wanted to for longer than I care to contemplate.”

“Oh angel” Crowley snaked his long arms around the angel’s soft waist and splayed his hands lovingly across Aziraphale’s broad, warm back. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

“Well…” Aziraphale looked suddenly self conscious. “Because I loved you so desperately and I thought demons couldn’t love like that. I was afraid you’d laugh at me.”

Crowley smiled and placed a swift kiss to his angel’s soft lips. “What a coincidence. This whole time, I loved you to distraction, but I thought angels only felt love… you know… in a general way. That and I wanted to shag you within an inch of your life and I thought you didn’t go in for that sort of thing” 

“Oh but I do!” Aziraphale’s painfully earnest exclamation made Crowely laugh with glee. “Please believe me Crowley” Aziraphale continued, driving eager fingers up into Crowley’s hair in a way that made the demon’s knees go weak. “I very much want to make love to you. Please let me show you how much.”

Without another word, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and pulled him insistently towards the stairs to Aziraphale’s apartment.    



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you hadn't figured this out yet, the last chapter is where my fic earns the E rating. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Once they were upstairs, standing by Aziraphale’s rarely used bed, Crowley insisted that the angel remove his “ridiculous bow tie” under threat of it being immolated via demonic spell, and Aziraphale hurried to comply. 

As soon as he’d tossed the bow tie onto his night stand, Crowley’s clever fingers were at the buttons of his shirt, opening it down the length of Aziraphale’s chest and belly as if he were carefully teasing opening a stubborn envelope. And then those long, expressive fingers were snaking up under Aziraphale’s undershirt, cool and soft and achingly tender against Aziraphale’s hot skin. It felt better than anything Aziraphale had ever experienced before in all his time on earth. 

Gasping at the pleasure of Crowley’s fingers, finally stroking against his bare flesh, he returned the favor by unbuttoning Crowley’s slinky silk shirt and pushing it from his shoulders, letting his trembling hands stroke up the demon’s slender sides, around his sharp shoulders and up again into his soft, dark copper hair. He watched Crolwey’s face transform under his touch, as the demon’s mouth fell open and his eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. Aziraphale pulled him in and ate at his mouth greedily. 

He felt Crowley’s hands smooth their way around his bare waist to stroke at his low back, and he groaned at the feel of it. He had no idea his low back could be such an erotic place, but now, feeling the demon’s clever fingers making delicate circles over the tender flesh, he realized it was the proximity to his arse that made the touch so achingly tantilizing. He stopped stroking Crowley’s hair for just a moment and hurriedly pushed the demon’s hands lower. Crowley got the hint and grabbed handfuls of Aziraphale’s arse and squeezed. Aziraphale groaned in pleasure and pressed himself insistently against Crowley’s hot length, returning his kiss with fervent enthusiasm.

He heard an answering groan from the demon, an unbelievably sexy sound of intense physical need. “Bed” the demon managed to gasp out between kisses. “Now!”

With that they fell over sideways onto Aziraphale’s musty bed and hurried to press themselves together again, kissing deliriously all the while. He felt Crowley’s hands pulling desperately at his shirt and decided he’d had enough with getting undressed the old fashioned way. With a snap of his fingers, he was completely nude, feeling the cool air of the room and the soft, faintly dusty feel of untouched sheets contrasting with Crowley’s now warm hands that were suddenly pressing naked skin instead of soft undershirt. Crowley gasped, breaking their kiss to lean back and look down at Aziphale’s sudden nakedness. His eyes were fierce and hungry and just a little awe struck. 

“Oh angel…” He breathed, taking Aziraphale in with intent sweeps of his bright yellow eyes. “ _ Oh angel _ ” he repeated reverently. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe how beautiful you are.” He gently pushed Aziraphale onto his back and then set about stroking up and down his body with long, achingly slow drags of his hand, letting his eyes drink in the angel’s broad shoulders and soft belly and thick thighs. His touches carefully avoided Aziraphale’s now throbbing cock and Aziraphale was suddenly extremely hyper aware of how untouched that sensitive part of his body was at this moment. The angel felt exposed and vulnerable, he’d never bared his body like this to anyone but Crowley. But he was also full of desire, so intensely turned on that he was sure he’d lose control if Crowley dared to touch his cock. 

“No dearest. You’re the one who’s beautiful.” he mumbled looking up lovingly into Crowley’s face. “You’re so glamorous. So lovely. I sometimes can’t stand to look at you. You’re… painfully handsome.”

“I was made to tempt humans into sin” Crowley replied simply. “You however angel, were  _ not _ , so you have absolutely no business being this delicious.” and with that, he bent his head and placed a searing hot kiss against Aziraphale’s collar bone. 

Aziraphale felt a sharp pang passion spike through him, and he arched into the kiss with a groan. “Oh! that feels…” his words left him as Crowley’s kisses moved lower and he felt the demon’s warm mouth descend onto his nipple. He cried out in pleasure, his hips jutting up of their own accord. 

“Crowley” he breathed urgently, barely able to speak through the searing pleasure radiating from the demon’s clever mouth. “I… I’ve never done this before. I mean, with another person that is”

“Good” mumbled Crowley, planting gentle little kisses back up Aziraphale’s chest to his neck. He spoke softly into Aziraphale’s ear, his voice a velvet whisper that tickled delightfully. “I can’t tell you how exciting it is to me to be the first to make love to you. I’ll make sure it’s so very good for you. I’ll take care of you my love”

With that, he started trailing kisses down again onto Aziraphale’s collar bone, down his chest, wriggling lower as he went. Aziraphale was relatively certain he knew where the demon was headed, so he grabbed him by the shoulders to halt his progress. Crowley stopped showering the angel with soft, slow kisses to look up in mild confusion. 

“I want you to stay up here” Aziraphale’s voice shook slightly with the desire surging through him. “I want you close to me darling. Not down there. Not yet”. 

Crowley nodded knowingly. “Of course angel. Of course. I understand.”

He snaked his way back up Aziraphale’s body and kissed the angel, long and deep. Then, breaking away for a moment, he snapped his fingers, removing his own clothes with a swift demonic spell. Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to gaze wonderingly down the long, lean planes of the demon’s naked body. “Oh dear lord” he murmured, dragging a trembling hand down Crowley’s slender waist to rest on his bare hip. He cast wondrous eyes over the demon’s lean thighs, he’d only ever seen encased in those maddently tight jeans. His flat, smooth stomach and angular chest, sloped up away from a very impressive and very hard cock, long and beautiful, jutting up from a well groomed small patch of dark copper hair at its base. 

“Oh my.. _ Oh my _ ...” It was all Aziraphale had the presence of mind to say. He wrapped his arms around Crowley and pulled their bodies together. The feel of the demon’s nakedness, his smooth skin rubbing along Aziraphale’s skin, driving him mad. Crowley smelled of whiskey and the faint spice of pine trees and ancient stone temples buried under a hint of stale nervous sweat. It was tantalizing and Aziraphale breathed him in as he gathered him up in his eager arms. The demon’s hot length pressing deliciously against Aziraphale’s own straining erection brought a sharp intake of breath. “Oh Crowley. Oh dearest. I didn’t know anything could feel this good” he gasped. He felt Crowley slowly, torturously beginning to move them against each other with devastating thrusts of his hips and his gasp turned to a sharp cry as he felt sparks explode from where the sweet friction of their bodies met. 

“Angel, you have no idea” Crowley’s voice was deep and rough with passion. “I’ve pictured you like this so many times angel. Too many times to count.” Aziraphale felt those words ignite a heat deep inside him and he moaned, eyes closing briefly with the thought of Crowley imagining him. 

“Yes.. yes my love, I have too” he breathed, the feel of Crowley’s hips thrusting their hardness together with velvety friction was almost too much to bare. He wrapped his hands in Crowley’s soft red hair and gripped handfuls of it as he whispered against the demon’s soft, open mouth “I’ve.. I’ve touched myself thinking about you. So many times”

“Have you angel?” Crowley’s voice held an urgent note. “Have you? Tell me. Tell me what you’ve been thinking Aziraphale.” He continued rubbing them together, snaking a hand down to grab Aziraphale’s ample hip and pulling him closer against his rolling pelvis. Aziraphales eyes fluttered closed at the insane pleasure of it all. 

“I’ve… I’ve thought about your mouth” Aziraphale gasped, out, feeling his face burn at the admission.

“What about it? Oh angel.. Tell me. What do I do with my mouth?”

“You.. you put it on my c - cock” Aziraphale stuttered out the word, so unused to talking this way, but loving it nonetheless. He heard Crowley gasp in pleasure at the sound of the angel’s description and felt him renew the hot motion of his hips, thrusting a bit faster now. “I imagine you taking me in your mouth and… sucking me. Sucking on me all hot and wet until I… until I ... explode” 

“Oh  _ fuck angel _ . I will. I will. I can’t wait to taste your beautiful cock” Crowley was panting and trembling now. Aziraphale pressed back against him, helping to bring the friction between them to a maddening, heated pitch. Crowley was staring deeply into his eyes, intent and desperate “What else? What else my darling?”

“I, I… “

“Yes? Yes my angel?”

“I think about you, ...being inside me.”

“ _ Oh satan yes _ . How. Tell me.  _ Please _ ” Aziraphale decided he loved this version of Crowley, naked and thrusting and pleading against him.    
  


“I think about riding you, of straddling you. S-sinking down onto you and r-riding you.” Aziraphale was surprised at how hearing his own breathless, stuttering words could make the pleasure between their undulating bodies that much sharper and more intense. He’d longed to say such things for centuries and the confession coming out now as he rubbed desperately against the demon’s lithe body, feeling his orgasm building inside him was profoundly affecting. 

“Oh angel..” Crowley’s eyes tightened with pleasure as he gasped out his words into Aziraphale’s open mouth “Oh angel, I think about that too, about releasing deep inside you. Oh Aziraphale.. I’m getting close. Are you close too? I want you to go first, so I can.. ...so I can watch you”

“Yes beloved.” Aziraphale felt weak with desire. His head spinning, his breath hitching in his throat. “Say my name again please Crowley. It sounds so good on your lips”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley groaned out, further increasing the speed of his thrusts, clutching at the angel’s hips with hot hands. “Aziraphale.  _ Aziraphale _ . What a beautiful name my… my angel. Aziraphale, my beautiful angel, I love you. I love you. I love you.” His breathless voice, spilling out the mantra of his confessed love was Aziraphale’s ultimate undoing.

Aziraphale felt a wave of intense sensation clench inside of him and radiate outwards, at the sound of his name, heated and lovely, spilling from his demon’s mouth, in the demon’s velvety voice, full of desire. He cried out, his hands gripping Crowley shoulders and he rutted out his pleasure against the demon. “Oh Crowley! Oh dear god! Oh my love!” he heard the words burst from him in a gasping rush.

The sound of the angel’s orgasm overtaking him, the sight of Aziraphale’s beautiful face, suffused with pleasure and the sudden, hot slickness between them drove Crowley over the edge. He came then too, gasping and crying out as he climaxed, his hands locked onto Aziraphale’s hips. Their voices mixed beautifully, blending in a chorus of sharp cries and horse moans.

___________________________________

Crowley felt the waves of intense pleasure fading away to a quiet joyfulness, but what he didn’t feel was any flagging of his desire. His cock still pressed against Aziraphale was rock hard as if he hadn’t come at all. So was Aziraphale’s he noted with surprised pleasure. Having never had sex with another immortal being, celestial or demonic, he had no idea if his own experience would be the same as Aziraphale’s. He was delighted to see that it was.

Still, he was content to snap away the mess from their lovemaking and hold the breathless angel in his arms, placing soft kisses against Aziraphale’s eyelids, his flushed cheeks, his hot wet mouth. The angel snuggled against him and tightened his hold around Crowley’s waist, sighing happily. 

“I….Crowley… I didn’t know it could be like this” he mumbled into the demon’s neck, his voice slurred with post coital bliss. “I hope you don’t ever plan to leave this bed. I want you right here, in my arms forever.”

Crowley felt a broad grin break across his face. “Well angel, we don’t technically have to eat or drink, but if you fuck me to death, there’ll be far too much paperwork to get through” He felt Aziraphale chuckle against him, too happy and loose to pretend to be offended at the demon’s irreverent tone. 

“Seriously though angel. That was  _ fantastic _ ” he said, languidly looping his fingers through Aziraphale’s sweat damp hair. “Far beyond my masturbatory fantasies, I assure you”

Aziraphale pulled back to look up at him with wonder. “You really do think of me? When you.. Touch yourself?” he asked cautiously.

Crowley smirked at him gently and kissed his sweet lips again. “Oh angel… so many times. It was getting difficult to keep up appearances around you. Has been for a few centuries now.”

“Oh good!” Crowley was mildly surprised at Aziaphale’s tone of relief. “Because I have too. And I wasn’t sure angels were supposed to feel that way.” He looked momentarily thoughtful, “I used to think I was broken. I mean, I’ve never felt that way about anyone else, but just the sight of you made me burn up inside. And sometimes, I couldn’t help but picture what it would be like... with you.. And then… well. You know how that goes. When you’re alone and longing for the one you love.” He smiled beautifically up at Crowley, who felt his heart clench in his chest at the sight of it. “I’m ever so glad I don’t have to make do with fantasies any longer” he cuddled back against Crowley with a happy little sigh.

“No angel, we don’t. We can do this whenever you want. Though, I’m not at all opposed to a demonstration of how you … er… went about things. There’s a particular fantasy of mine, involving you walking in on me in the shower that I’ve been itching to try”

“Anything you’d like my darling” Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley’s neck. He simultaneously began slowly stroking across Crowley’s low back and down over his narrow buttock with gentle fingertips. Crowley felt the angel’s soft lips, placing delicate little kisses against the sensitive front of his neck, over his adam’s apple and he groaned. 

He was more than ready to go again, but waited for a moment, letting Aziraphale play with him at the angel’s leisure, seeing what he’d come up with if Crowley didn’t intervene. The angel’s hot fingertips were flirting their way down over his buttocks and teasing a little bit at the cleft between them. He’d pressed his body closer against Crowley’s and Crowley could feel Aziraphale start to roll his hips, pressing his cock against Crowley’s again. The angel was working himself up against him in a way that made Crowley ache with sharp pangs of desire. He loved watching and feeling it play out as Aziraphale’s breathing became labored, and his mouth opened against Crowley’s neck, loved the feel of the angel’s hot tongue painting sigils of lust against his skin. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was small and weak with need. “I want to suck you”

Crowley wondered absently if maybe could discorporate from the flames that erupted inside him at the angel’s words. “Oh Aziraphale” he breathed, squeezing their bodies closer together. “Oh angel. I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more than I want that right now” He heard a tremor in his voice when he spoke the words. He was struck with sudden inspiration and leaned back to look the angel in the eyes. “Can we do that at the same time? Together? I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.” 

“Of course darling.. But how?” Crowley grinned devilishly at Aziraphale’s naivete. “I’ll show you angel. It’s quite simple really.”

And with that, he swiveled effortlessly so that his head was towards the angel’s pretty, pale feet and his pelvis was now situated up by Aziraphale’s head. “Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Oh I see now” and Crowley could barely suppress a joyful laugh at his innocent delight. He didn’t laugh though, because his change of position had brought his face right up against Aziraphale’s thick, stocky penis. It bobbed before his eyes, pale and swollen and beautiful, the soft head oozing precum, the full, hair dusted scrotum, warm and inviting beneath. “Angel” Crowley breathed, propping himself up briefly to look back at Aziraphale where he was looking with equal amounts of longing on his face at Crowley’s cock before him. 

“Please just relax for a bit and let me start. If you’ve never had this done to you before,.. I don’t want you distracted just yet.” Aziraphale could only nod, his mouth gaping in anticipation as he peered down at Crowley, naked lust shining in his dilated eyes. 

The nod and the look was all the encouragement Crowley needed, he nuzzled close to Aziraphale’s warm crotch and rubbed his eager face against the angel’s cock, letting it drag over his cheeks and his nose and his lips. As he heard Aziraphale gasp in surprised pleasure at this new sensation, Crowley had the presence of mind to marvel at how perfectly matched they were in height and length of torso. It put his face and mouth in just the right place to play expertly with Aziraphale while placing his own cock right up at Aziraphale’s mouth. As if they’d been designed this way, to fit together.

He quickly graduated from letting the angels silky cock slide along his face and began placing hot little kisses along the length of it, from base to tip. Aziraphale groaned and gently jutted his hips forward, pressing into the kisses, his hand on Crowley’s hip squeezed tightly. Crowley smiled to himself and then captured the head and sank his hot mouth down onto the fullness of Aziraphale’s cock. His deep groan at feeling the angel, finally filling his mouth and pressing against the back of his throat was echoed by a loud gasp from above as Aziraphale cried out in pleasure. “Oh god Crowley. Oh dear god! Oh!” 

Crowley pulled back slowly, letting his lips drag along the length of Aziraphale’s penis, making sure to swirl his tongue languidly as he went. The angel’s cries grew louder. “Oh! Oh! Oh Crowley! Oh  _ GOD!”  _ Crowley pulled off the end of Aziraphale’s cock and grinned up at the angel who’s eyes were staring back at him in awe, face flushed completely pink, mouth open and panting. He looked so beautiful, lost in surprised passion that Crowley had to take a couple of deep breaths to bring himself back under control. He didn’t want to come the moment the angel touched him. 

“Oh dear god Crowley. That feels… I can’t even tell you how that feels. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before” Aziraphale looked as if he was struggling to get the words out. 

“I love doing it angel. I’ll do this to you all day if you let me.”

“Crowley. My love. Can I try now?” -

“Oh please do angel. Please do” Crowley breathed. He leaned his head and neck back to rest on his folded arm and simultaneously jutted his hips forward a little to give Aziraphale better access. He let Aziraphale assess the cock in front of him, watching with breathless anticipation as the angel leaned up a bit onto his shoulder and tentatively reached out. He wrapped gentle, uncertain fingers around Crowley’s base and Crowley sucked air in through clenched teeth in a hiss. Aziraphale jumped slightly, looking down in concern. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“Quite the opposite darling. It feels amazing. Please. Please Continue” Aziraphale nodded, looking so earnest and concentrated that Crowley had to suppress a giggle. The laughter died on his lips, instantly replaced by a low moan as Aziraphale wrapped his hand back around Crowley and gave his cock a tentative stroke. Pleased with this result, Aziraphale kept up the motion of his hand, giving gentle little tugs at Crowley’s stiff member. He then leaned in and licked tentatively at the head. 

He jumped back again as he heard Crowley’s cry of pleasure. But soon realized that the noise was a happy one. He was getting the hang of this now. Learning how the small moves of his hands and mouth caused rather large reactions from Crowley. He returned quickly to licking the head, then engulfed it in his hot mouth and hesitantly pushed down on it, swallowing Crowley to the hilt in one, slow sweep. 

Crowley felt as if his demonic soul had left his body, or perhaps, Aziraphale’s angelic one had found it’s way in. He gasped and gripped Aziraphale’s hip with a trembling hand. “Oh dear fuck angel.  _ You feel so fucking good _ ” he groaned out. He felt and heard an answering groan from the angel, who slowly, torturously slowly, pulled his soft lips all the way back up and off of Crowley. He looked down at him with a flushed face, full of longing. 

“Crowley, it felt so good to have you in my mouth.” The angel looked dazed, hypnotized with desire. “Are we meant to do this at the same time? Show me”

“With pleasure angel.” Crowley took a deep breath to steady himself so that he didn’t come too quickly. He was very much looking forward to drawing this out a bit. “Basically,” he explained in a gruff voice. “You do what you want to me with your mouth, while I do what I want to you with mine. It can be awkward, but once you get into a rhythm, it’s amazing. That, and… well, I like the feeling of being… distracted by pleasure while I give pleasure. Does that make sense?”

“I think it does” Aziraphale remarked thoughtfully. Ever the academic, cataloging this new experience in his bookshop brain, and Crowley fell a little more in love with him. 

With an answering nod at the angel, Crowley slowly leaned forward and took Aziraphale back into his mouth. He felt the angel do the same and soon they were both sliding back and forth at each other, Crowley, pressing his mouth desperately down onto Azirahpale’s cock, striving to get the angel deep into his throat. Aziraphale went slower, more cautiously, and more distractedly, moaning deeply as he gently sucked back and forth along Crowley’s shaft. 

The feeling of Aziraphale’s hot mouth making those tentative pulls on his cock while he tried his best to impale himself on the angel’s thickness was indescribably exciting. Crowley’s mind went utterly blank, and his world narrowed down to the feeling of the angel’s thick cock head pressing rhythmically against the back of his throat, lost simultaneously in the feel of Aziraphale’s searing hot, delicate movements with soft lips. He could smell Aziraphale’s lovely smell, musky and sweet as he buried his nose again and again against the angel’s warm scrotum. 

He knew he wouldn’t last long, so he increased his speed at Aziraphale’s cock, wrapping an arm around the angel’s thick hips and pulling him in even deeper with every stroke. He could hear and feel the moans and desperate sounds Aziraphale made while at his work, the vibrations of his noises playing along Crowley’s tortured flesh, and he gently started to thrust towards the angel’s lips. Aziraphale took it easily, and so he thrust a bit harder and was rewarded by a slightly surprised but then extremely happy, urgent moaning noise. He felt the angel thrust back into his mouth, and then they were both pushing against each other with each downward, forward stroke of the other’s mouth, hips moving, hands clutching. 

Crowley felt his orgasm build swiftly and he made a little inquisitive sound in the back of his throat. A sound that meant to convey  _ yes? Soon? _ He heard a gratifying groan in return that he knew was Aziraphale’s affirmative answer. He thrust a few more times, and then he felt himself clench and explode, slowly, sharply, with a force that almost made him black out, into the angel’s hot hot mouth. Seconds later, he felt Aziraphale push his cock as far as it could comfortably go into Crowley’s throat and felt him spasm, felt his hot wetness filling his throat and mouth and heard his angel’s high pitched open mouthed moans around Crowley’s cock as he too succumbed. 

The waves of intense pleasure peaked and then slowed,and he pulled back and off of Aziraphale’s slick cock. He felt the angel do the same with torturous friction, made more intense by his post orgasmic sensitivity. He quickly spun himself around and clambered back up to take a dazed and joyful looking Aziraphale into his arms. They kissed deeply, and Crowley delighted in the taste of himself mixing with the taste of the angel. He broke the kiss to gaze into Aziraphale’s shining hazel eyes.

“I can’t stand how much I love you.” he whispered, feeling vulnerable and brave in a strange mix. “I can’t stand it. I thought it would get easier now that we’ve gone physical with it, but it hasn’t. It’s gotten stronger. Deeper. I might die from it angel”

Aziraphale was crying now, but Crowley knew it was from joy and love, not from regret. The knowledge of this bolstered his heart.    
  


“Oh Crowley. I know how you feel.” Aziraphale sniffled as he placed a small kiss to Crowley’s lips. “I spent so many years longing for you, afraid you’d push me away. Now that you’re here, in my arms, making me come apart like this… I…. have nothing in me but love for you. It fills me up and… look… I’m leaking”, he laughed through the tears that were spilling down his cheeks, a joyful smile on his bright, flushed face. 

“Oh angel, I’m so sorry” Crowley felt a sudden pang of regret at the angel’s words. 

“Whatever for my love?”

“For not answering your calls angel. For pushing that cell phone onto you. For pushing you away. I couldn’t stand the love you were offering me. Couldn’t stand your closeness after all this Armageddon nonsense was over. I convinced myself it was just friendly affection, that you were finally comfortable being affectionate, but I didn’t believe it could go deeper than that. And I desperately wanted it to go deeper. So I did the only thing I knew how to do to protect myself. I pushed you away. I gave you that stupid phone to put a layer of protection between us.”

“And look dearest” Aziraphale whispered “It didn’t work did it?”

“No” Crowley remarked with a grin. “It didn’t work. But still, I should never have put that wall up. I’m so sorry”.

“Oh Crowley, there’s nothing to forgive. Let’s not waste any more time on regret for all the could haves or should haves. We’ll make ourselves go mad that way. You’re here now, in my arms. You never have to leave me again.” As if to emphasize this, Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s narrow frame closer to his soft warmth. Sighing happily, he tucked his tousled white blond head into Crowley’s neck.

“You’re right angel” Crowley responded, feeling his own eyes mist with happy tears. “Lets not waste any more time”. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue at the request of my1alias who suggested an irresistible plot bunny. So here you go!

A week later, it was Thursday night again. Aziraphale had the ladies over to discuss Emma. He served sangria, queso fresco with guava and some of Jeannette’s homemade scones. 

The ladies had grilled him instantly about what had transpired after they left the meet up a week ago, but Aziraphale, never one to kiss and tell had been closed mouthed, choosing only to smile and blush a little and to say that “things went quite well”. Disappointed at not getting more details out of him, but happy with the assumption that the two had finally gotten together, they’d settled for snacking and chatting about the plot of Jane Austin’s book about a matchmaking busybody. The irony was not lost on anyone. 

They’d been talking, drinking and laughing for a solid hour when they heard the bell over the shop door chime and Crowley walked in. He strode up to the table, hips swinging, sunglasses dark and gleaming, his hair perfect, his black silk shirt unbuttoned a bit too far for public decency. 

“Hi Crowley!” Piped Jenn immediately, giving him a broad smile. “Here to visit your boyfriend?”

“Yup” Crowley didn’t miss a beat, giving Jenn a wicked grin, he sauntered up to the front of the table, where Aziraphale had risen to his feet to meet him, swept the angel up in his arms without a word, and gave him the type of deep, lingering, passionate kiss only seen at the end of a particularly steamy romantic comedy. 

A hushed silence fell over the group. Crowley released Aziraphale from his grasp, gave the ladies another brief wave and swung his way back towards the door. “See you tomorrow angel” he called out over his shoulder. His exit was accompanied by the four women suddenly exploding into whoops and cackles and rather loud applause. 

Aziraphale could only stare after him, mouth agape, breathless and bright pink. He slowly sat down in his chair and received many pats on the back and jabs of companionable female elbows, and struggled to bring the conversation back around to Emma again. 

A little while later, his phone chimed and he leaned over to see a text had come in from Crowley. 

** _Remember, tomorrow night, I’ll leave the flat door unlocked and I’ll be in the shower. Try to look scandalized ;)_ **

** _Ps. I love you angel <3 <3 <3 _ **


End file.
